


head cold

by bellafarallones



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Comfort, Hand Jobs, Other, Reader-Insert, Reference to petplay, Tea, service top indrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29199636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellafarallones/pseuds/bellafarallones
Summary: Indrid takes care of you after you have a particularly bad day.
Relationships: Indrid Cold (The Adventure Zone)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	head cold

**Author's Note:**

> yes i know this is cringe but it did give me serotonin

You’d had a  _ spectacularly  _ bad day: woken up tired, nursed a pounding headache for most of the morning (only exacerbated by the fluorescent lights at work),  _ and _ gotten yelled at for no good reason. When you got into the car to drive home you spent a good few minutes with the heels of your hands pressed to your eyes, watching red lights blossom against your eyelids. 

The buzz of your phone made you jump. A text from Indrid.  _ Want me to come over? _

You typed back  _ yes  _ and started the engine. 

Indrid was waiting outside your front door when you made it home. “My life sucks,” you said, collapsing against him.

“There, there.” He patted your shoulder. Just seeing him was enough to make you feel a little better.

You managed to get the key into the lock and turn it, and then you were inside, not even bothering to turn on the light as you dumped your bag on the ground and yourself on the couch. 

Even with your eyes closed you could hear him closing and locking the door behind you, the scuff of him kicking off his shoes. He padded over to you and knelt to unlace your shoes, and when he’d gotten them off he took one of your feet into his lap and started massaging it. 

“Thanks, Indrid.”

“Anytime.” For a moment you just lay there, decompressing. “I saw some of it,” he said quietly. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

“No. Just… take care of me? Please?”

“Of course.” He got up and leaned over to kiss your forehead, then shrugged off the cardigan he was wearing over his tank top. “Sit up for me?”

You managed to lean forward, and he wrapped the cardigan around your shoulders. It was thick and soft, still warm from his skin. Once you got your arms through the armholes you hugged yourself, breathing in the familiar smell of him.

He stepped back, hummed a little. “You might like something to drink... tea?”

“Mm. The bergamot in the cabinet above the sink? With lots of sugar?”

He spoke over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen. “I should warn you, my idea of what ‘lots of sugar’ is might not align with yours.”

“True. Whatever the amount of sugar is that I’ll most enjoy, then.”

Indrid paused, his back to you, and you could tell he was sorting through the futures. He’d admitted once that he’d never had so many visions about an individual person before he met you, and that they were a nice break from the disasters. Sometimes when you were alone, watching Netflix or cooking or all the other mundane things you did every day, you looked up at the ceiling as though it might be possible to tell if he was watching. 

You probably would have been more bothered by his magical semi-omniscience if you hadn’t also seen him sit staring entranced at a lamp for hours at a time. 

Apparently Indrid had finished divining how much sugar you’d like, because you could hear him opening cabinets now. “Ooh, this is fancy tea,” he said.

“Yeah, my aunt sent it to me for my birthday.” You didn’t normally drink loose-leaf, let alone anything this expensive.

You heard the water boiler start to bubble and the sound of pouring, and then Indrid was back, bearing your favorite mug, which was blue with little fish leaping along the side. “It’ll be too hot to drink for another four minutes,” he said, and settled down on the couch next to you. You leaned back into him, sitting between his spread legs so he hugged you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“What did you do today?” you asked.

“I,” he said slowly, “did the dishes in the morning. Then I tried to think of how to prevent a car crash that ended up not happening anyway.” He rubbed your arm. “I’m not all productive every day like you are,” he teased.

“Sure.” You hadn’t felt all that productive today, but it felt good to hear him say it. 

You sat there for a while without talking, watching the steam rise off your cup of tea, and after four minutes had passed you took a sip. “Delicious,” you declared, and he made a little pleased noise. Laughing, you put down the cup and turned around to kiss him on the cheek. 

He took your chin in his hand and kissed your cheek as well, then the tip of your nose, and then, very gently, your lips. “Sweet enough even for me,” he declared.

You laughed and turned around again, leaning against him as you picked up the mug. You drank your tea slowly, savoring both the beverage and the feeling of his arms around you. When you’d finished you took the cup to the sink and splashed some cold water on your face, which made you feel a little bit less dead, and then came back to be held some more. His hands slipped under your shirt to rest cool against your warm skin, his touch innocent until you rolled your hips back experimentally against his. 

“I don’t know if you’re in the mood for anything,” he said, even though he definitely did know, and you definitely were.

“I want to get off but I don’t want to move or bother taking my clothes off.”

“In that case, I might be able to be of service?”

“Please.”

“Just let me take care of you,” he said, fumbling to get the button of your pants open,  _ “ _ just sit there and look handsome and let me make you feel good.” He slipped his hand downwards, pressed down just enough for you to rock against his fingertips. Then he was kissing your neck, softly at first and then open-mouthed and wet as you started to whimper. Soon you were slick enough for him to slide a knuckle across your clit, making you gasp, and curl one of his long fingers inside you. His other hand came up under your shirt to tease at your nipples.

“I love the noises you make like this,” he said, “mewling like a little kitten for me.”

“ _ Fuck,”  _ you gasped, moving your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers. “More, please -”

The second finger inside you was not even a stretch. You tried to squirm backwards but his chest was solid against your back, his arms surrounding you. “Will you let me hold you when you cum?” he said, as though it was a privilege he might be denied. 

“Uh-huh,” you said, “yeah, anything, just keep doing that and -” the only way you could say it was because you didn’t have to look at him and even so you could feel your face getting red, your lips fighting the words. “And keep talking like that,  _ Jesus.” _

“Aw,” he teased, rubbing his fingers up inside you, “you like hearing that you’re a good kitten?”

“ _ Please.”  _ You were clinging to him, writhing in his arms, close already.

“I should get you some ears and a tail, hm, you’d be even cuter than you already are, if such a thing is even possible. Are you going to be a good kitten and cum for me?”

You dug your fingernails into his arm hard enough to leave red marks when you came. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you said as he took his hand slowly out of your pants.

“My pleasure.” He sucked your slick somewhat noisily off his own fingers and put his arms back around you, his right hand still damp. 

“If you got me a set of cat ears you’d be wearing them at least as often as I would,” you said.

He sighed dramatically. “Probably true.” He rested his chin on your shoulder again, his cheek to yours, and you could feel his hips rocking forward, but only a little. He was holding himself back. You collected your energy, and then, in one sudden motion he saw coming and made himself pliant for, you pushed him back down against the armrest.

“I’m going to make you come all over yourself, horny boy,” you said, and he lifted his hips to let you pull down his sweatpants. 

“Your horny boy,” he promised, breathless and grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Your dirty, horny boy who’s been around the block a few times and would fuck you any filthy way he knows how?”

“Exactly,” you said, because he  _ was  _ good at sex, could do some really filthy things with his tongue and owned sex toys that’d been discontinued in the seventies and he could and did fuck on every horizontal surface in his place and yours and even some of the vertical ones and made you come every which way, but right now just this was perfect, just him, gasping with your hand wrapped around him.

There was a bottle of lube in the drawer of the end table, which you’d put there after the last time he fucked you on the couch, and you dug it out and squirted some into your palm. You didn’t have all the experience he did - the length of your human lifespan being prohibitive at the very least - but you knew him, knew how to touch him to make him come so hard he spurted all the way up his chest and even onto his chin and lay there underneath you breathing hard and looking up at you, almost lovestruck. 

Then he was laughing, pulling his shirt off and wiping the cum off with it and pulling you down against him, and you rested your cheek against the hot skin of his bare chest, trailed your fingers across the thin hair there.

“Now  _ I’m  _ gonna get cold,” he teased. “You’re gonna have to give me my cardigan back.”

You kissed his chest, right over his heart. “Fat chance.”

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr @bellafarallones


End file.
